There is an idea of a Patrick Bateman; some kind of abstraction. But there is no real me: only an entity, something illusory. And though I can hide my cold gaze, and you can shake my hand and feel flesh gripping yours and maybe you can even sense our lifestyles are probably comparable... I simply am not there. I have all the characteristics of a human being: blood, flesh, skin, hair; but not a single, clear, identifiable emotion, except for greed and disgust. Something horrible is happening inside of me and I don't know why. My nightly bloodlust has overflown into my days. I feel lethal, on the verge of frenzy. I think my mask of sanity is about to slip. I'm into murders and executions, so today I killed Antonio Gonzalez in his own Department. My need to engage in homicidal behavior on a massive scale cannot be corrected, but, ah, I have no other way to fulfil my needs. I think you should know... I've killed quite a few people.
Once again I set out on my valient quest. Once again the ranks of evil incompetents are reduced by one. Having seen the name of Philip Tuddenham on my list of 1st yr CompScis, I staked out his ticker, and followed him into the lift afterwards. He did not walk out.
A blasphemious college name alluding to the possibility of a female regent induced the Inquisitor to make an example of Alan Harper, student at that college, the name of which shall not be spoken by the faithful.
There once was a doctor named No,
who killed me quickly and so,
I must die
and I wave goodbye
to another failure and now must go.
- Poetical Genius (AKA Harsh but fair)
Let me take you on a little journey through my mind, c.
Thursday: (seeing someone has left a student handbook in my pigeon hole, but no-one elses) "Ah, someone has left me a little present. It must be contact poisoned - how sad. How superior am I, that I can see through such a pathetic little trick, see it for what it is, and not be fooled. How foolish the other assassin must be". So, I picked it up carefully, making sure that I didn't touch it with my skin; in return, the student handbook spoke to me: it said "BANG!". Yes, that's right folks: it was, in fact, a bomb. Let that be a lesson to all assassins: get arrogant, and you'll die. Alas, alack, Johnny Quest has been sold out (first person to email the umpire and tell him where the reference came from wins a really shitty prize of my choice).
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